


Solace

by cherrychan



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, a mess, awkwardandintroverted!wonwoo, cuteguitarplayer!joshua, drugdealer!soonyoung, dumbass!jihoon, hotsoccerplayer!hansol, hotsoccerplayer!seungcheol, sadboi!mingyu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2018-12-23 20:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11997261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrychan/pseuds/cherrychan
Summary: in which wonwoo is mingyu's solace





	1. Genesis: an introduction

**Author's Note:**

> this story will have a lot of drama and blackmailing and alcohol and physical fighting and violence and mentions of drugs. and meanie being an emo mess. read at your own discretion. 
> 
> also (most) chapter names will be named after a random quote from each chapter, so hopefully that clears up some confusion

It all commenced in September. My senior year of high school had already been in session for almost a month. The hot summer temperatures were dropping, accompanied by the empty azure skies finally congesting with thick, enormous gray clouds. The vibrant green leaves lining the roads were clinging desperately to life.

I was sitting complacently in the chilly guidance office, enthralled in a book, periodically sipping strawberry tea, and waiting patiently to be put to work by Mrs. Kim, the guidance office desk lady. Sixth periods were my one hour of quiet time in this cozy room, being the office assistant. 

I heard a door creak open and sauntering out came a tall boy accompanied by a short woman and one of the guidance counselors. The boy had his hands clenched around an orange file of papers and a class schedule. His countenance showed anxiety and discomfort. The woman beside him, which I gathered was his mother, seemed flustered yet excited. The guidance counselor informed Mrs. Kim that this boy was a new student, enrolling tomorrow.

"Wonwoo, this is Mingyu, a new student. Would you show him around to all his classes?" Mrs. Kim kindly requested. I nodded politely and swiped the hall pass from the front desk. 

"Mind if I see your schedule?" I asked nicely to the boy after clearing my throat, making eye contact with him. His sharp fawn eyes pierced through me, and I swiftly averted my eyes. He was actually quite handsome; much more so than most of the boys at this school. I attempted to look anywhere but  _him_ , taking the paper from his hands. I studied it intently, making a mental map of how I would give the tour. The last thing I wanted to do was make a fool of myself by not knowing where to go. 

Once I was ready, I shuffled along the white tile floors of the school, showing Mingyu where to go for all of his classes, and mentioning all the clubs and sports he can join. It turns out we have two classes together: photography and AP calculus. 

Through my attempts to make a good impression, I can only say for sure that his mom likes me, at least. And unlike her, Mingyu didn't speak one word until the end, when he muttered a silent "thank you" on his way out. 

"See you tomorrow," I softly spoke, waving goodbye and whirling around to return to the office.

 _I hope he doesn't become popular_ , I thought to myself, trudging the silent, vacant hallways.  _Maybe we could be friends._  

And with that initial interaction, a new chapter of my life began. 


	2. attention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wonwoo is too shy to function

_Attention_. A nasty, uncomfortable word. A word you associate with teenagers who want to feel  _seen._  A word with an image of a popular girl with so much makeup that her head is weighed down. A word with an image of the homecoming couple making out in the corner, so tightly connected that they become the same person. A word with such a negative connotation that I cringe when I think of it. A word that symbolizes burning red cheeks and sweaty palms and a heart that wants to burst out of your chest. A word, a word that's brought to me when in literature class, I am given the task that the mere thought of makes my hands tremble.

"Wonwoo, would you please read the next page?"

It feels like lava was poured down my throat, and burned its way down to my stomach. I stare upwards at my teacher, who has chosen me because I am the only person left who hasn't been chosen to read. She's smiling kindly, but all I feel is panic. My eyes flicker to the textbook in front of me, and to the paragraphs and words. I clear my throat and begin, stuttering and trying  _so_  hard just to pronounce all the words correctly.

"I can't hear him!" someone shouts from the back.

"Yeah," my teacher agrees begrudgingly, "Why don't you speak up a little for the students in the back?"

I speak up, my voice hoarse and scratchy like nails on a chalkboard. I read faster. I pronounce several words wrong in the process, but when it's over, I take a deep breath, wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans, and hope that everyone will forget that ever happened. Damned  _attention_.

Fortunately, my next class is AP calculus, though only fortunate in the sense that I won't be called on to answer questions. Besides, all the attention is on someone new today. The kid I gave the tour to, the kid that moved here from somewhere far away. He had just finished introducing himself when he sits down next to me. He's wearing dark colored clothes, just like last time.

"You're Wonwoo, right?" he asks quietly, now that the teacher has started.

I nod, and inwardly I feel astonished that he remembered my name. Every time that someone does, I wonder how they do it, because it always takes me days to learn someone's name. But for some reason, I remember his. Mingyu. That was his name.

Next, I find myself pushing through the throngs in the congested cafeteria. Down the rows of tables, I go to mine, in the corner by the outlet. By the outlet because Jihoon always has to charge his phone. In the corner because I hate being surrounded by everyone else.

I sit down and pull out one of my books, opening it to where the bookmark was nestled snugly in the crease. The other students are still filing into the cafeteria, increasing the volume exponentially. Soon Jihoon joins me and habitually plugs his charger into the wall. Jisoo joins too, sitting where he always does and pulling out some of his endless homework. He's always working on something.

And then my girlfriend takes the seat next to me, glaring at me fondly. I flash her a smile and then return my focus to the enthralling book in front of me. I feel her arm wrap around my shoulder and I tense. I always dislike physical touch in public, but when I tell her, she just gets sad, and then I feel like a bad boyfriend. Though I can't help to feel uncomfortable.  PDA isn't something I've ever really been fond of, because I feel like people are watching and judging and placing labels on me, saying that I'm immature. You don't see adults in public holding hands and making out in hallway corners. With her clinging to my side, that draws  _attention_. My worst nightmare.

Secondly, I'm aware that the touch of her hand doesn't give me the same excitive butterflies as it did when we first started being a  _thing_  over a year ago. After such a long time of being a couple, the excitement has dulled like a knife. Every kiss is nothing more than lip contact. Holding hands is holding a heavy stone. Looking into those once captivating eyes now only brings me gloom. Not to say that we are in an unhappy relationship.  _Dissatisfied_ would be better. And her ignorant happiness makes me feel like such a horrible person. This girl wants to give me all of her love and try to make me happy, and I'm ungrateful and don't really want any of it.

I accidentally read three pages without retaining any information while mulling over my dying feelings for such a convivial girl. Though instead of rereading the passages that I skimmed over, I slide my bookmark into the center crevice and gently close the book. The cafeteria is far too rowdy to concentrate in.

"Guys, what's for lunch?" Jihoon asks, looking up from his phone.

"Something gross, probably," Jisoo answers, his gaze not leaving his homework.

Jihoon sighs. Though his hunger is probably so overbearing that he will surrender to the less-than-acceptable food. Thus, he stands up and heads over to the lunch line, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

I determine take out notes and relentlessly study until the bell rings, cognizant of Jisoo's positive influences on me.

—

I loathe the hallways. I despise the shoving and bumping and dirty looks. I abhor the slow walkers and people who take up the entire hallway so that you can't pass them. I wish the obnoxious big-mouthed people would go away. And oh, oh how I hate making eye contact with others. I feel like they've already made quick judgments about me then.  _Oh, there's the weird emo kid that never talks. He looks ugly. He's strange._

As soon as I enter the classroom of my favorite class, I can release the breath that I kept in the entire way here. This is photography class. And the only person I have to show my work to is my teacher. No frenzied presentations or group assignments. Just one of the things I love most: photography. We get days to go outside and solely take photos, and our due dates are so outrageously stretched out that I have time for my personal work. It's ideal. 

I take a seat on a stool and have time to read before the teacher gives us our assignment for the rest of this month. I don't get too deep into the page before I notice Mingyu saunter through the doorway, checking his paper schedule several times just to be sure this is the right room. Our eyes lock and I immediately look elsewhere; anywhere but those glimmering cinnamon-colored eyes. I pretend to read, but in reality, I'm listening to him give the speech he's given plenty other times today, and the teacher introducing him to everyone else and telling him to sit anywhere.

At that command, I can feel his burning gaze on me. Those innocent eyes, just wanting to sit next to someone he knows. I see him in my peripheral shuffling over and silently choosing the stool closest to mine, though far enough to be out of arm's reach. I feign ignorance of his presence, re-reading the same paragraph for the nth time now. 

The teacher at long last speaks, reminding the students of this month's assignment: take a picture of something you're passionate about. I still haven't taken this photo. There are too many possibilities. I'm passionate about reading, and nature, and traveling, but there has never been something that significantly sticks out from the rest. Perhaps I'll take a photo of the garden I upkeep, or my book collection, or my friends at the river. I have yet to decide. In the meantime, I sneak glances of the lonely boy to my left and think of all the questions I could ask him. But I never do. At the end of class, he's still just as lonely and I'm still just as shy. 

When school is over, I trudge through the teeming parking lot to my car and swiftly depart. On my way out, I see him sitting alone on a bench, but I don't stop. A large part of me wonders if he would want a ride home.  _He deserves to feel like he has a friend at this new school._  It's likely that he already has friends, friends that are better than me. What if I asked and he got uncomfortable with the idea, and turned me down, and never talked to me again? It's not worth it. No awkward moments will arise if I just keep to myself. Besides, I never stopped driving in the first place. The school is gone now. Mingyu is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow it only took me several months to update!!


	3. friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wonwoo's special day.

An overrated day usually. Everyone else goes out late to party or go to the school games and see their friends. I know Jisoo plays guitar at a cafe. And I stay home. I stay home and read in bed or watch movies alone. Or maybe if it's warm outside, I'll go to my secret spot in the woods.

You get there through a hidden trail behind one of the abandoned houses in my neighborhood. Then you walk along the gravel trail, the canopy of trees above you, releasing their leaves down to the grass blankets below. Then you walk by the little creek and up a hill. That's it. That's my solace spot. Whenever I need to think about something, or cry, or find peace, I go there. I listen to the rushing stream, or to the rustling leaves, or to the boys at the baseball park on the other side of the trees. I grab the grass in my hands until my knuckles turn white, or watch the minuscule bugs march on the green blades. It's a serene, pure place.

There used to be a house back there, and a petite decrepit church that still stands abandoned and overgrown with the persistent foliage. I have fantasies of sprucing it up, but it would be a big project that would require more than just me. Who knows what kind of behemoths have found refuge in that thing. I wouldn't want to face them in solitude.

Nonetheless, that nook in the woods is where I go on pleasant Fridays. But this Friday is different.

Instead of going home and wallowing alone in my bed for the entire night, I'm going to go out with Jihoon and Jisoo. We'll watch Jisoo play guitar for an hour, then we're going to the river near his house to play games and swim if it's warm enough. Jisoo lives on the edge of town, in a quiet neighborhood where everyone has a big backyard and you can actually see the stars clearly every night.

However, we can't do this until late. After school, I'll hardly have enough time to go home and eat before I must go to work. But afterward, my night will finally belong to my friends.

School today is painless: withstand all my classes, hesitantly converse with Mingyu, listen to Jihoon's grating voice, trudge through the swarming hallways, feign thrilling love with my girlfriend, and then drive home, once again enduring the dilemma of seeing Mingyu sitting desolated on the bench, and attempting to encourage myself to make friends with him. Then I take my leftover snacks from my packed lunch and head to the woods, to my spot, in hopes to talk myself out of my timidity and make a plan to talk to Mingyu with more than just short responses and avoidant eye contact.

I see Mingyu as an opportunity for pure friendship. He knows nothing about me, therefore I can be myself around him without fear of hurtful judgment. It's contrasting from everyone else at this school because they have all known of me for ages. Those impressions of me have already been sculpted. Maybe with Mingyu, I can redefine myself. He can be the catalyst that finally bursts me out of my egg. There's something about him that beckons me, that tugs me towards him. He comes off as unjudgemental. Which is precisely what I, a reticent person, needs. I don't want to live my entire life distressed of others' opinions of me, despite the fact that I'm concerned that I'll always be this way.

With the crunching of the marigold orange autumn leaves beneath my feet and the chomping of my teeth on an apple, I miss the noise until I'm too close to turn away from it. I stop in my tracks the absolute moment I hear it, and I stand utterly still. And for a second it ceases and I nearly disregard it as nothing. I frantically examine my surroundings. To the left is the hill, to the right is the treeline, and in front of me is the creek. But something's unmistakably out of place.

There's a boy, around my age, wearing complete black, squatting down at the creek, his back turned toward me. He seems to be  _shaking_ , which baffles me, considering it's a warm autumn day. I observe as he yanks at his own raven-colored hair, and then cups his face in his hands.  _Maybe if I leave, very slowly, he won't notice I'm here_. I take one step back and intently regard his movements, hoping he continues doing whatever he's doing without any notice of me.

But then he lets out a loud cry, and it all comes together. He's not having some odd episode, he's crying. His sobs are deep in pitch and riddled with despair. This isn't some petty weeping over a callous remark, this is derived from suffering. Am I really going to abandon some unfortunate kid?

Before I can think of a definite answer to that question, I consider the alternative. He's crying. And I'm standing in the open watching him. How do I even approach him, what do I even say?  _Hello, I couldn't help but notice you aggressively sobbing. How may I be of assistance?_ There is no good thing to say here. I'll just leave.

Somehow, right when I determine the choice in my mind to depart this dismal scene, his head snaps towards me, and our eyes lock. My heart drops. It's Mingyu.

_Is that really him? How did he get back here? How does he even know of this place? I'm dreaming, this can't be real. Why is he here? Why is he crying? What do I do?_

"Wonwoo?"

_Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no what do I do?_

"Uh, hi?" I choke out without thought.  _I guess the "run away" option just went out the door._

He sniffles and wipes his cheeks and eyes with his bare arm. I steadily approach him and his gaze doesn't leave me. His eyes are swollen and red like roses. His nose looks red and round like a cherry. His puffy lips are quivering and his jet black hair is mussed and sticking up in several places.

Rather (unintentionally) brusquely, I belt out, "Why are you crying?"

His eyes land on the babbling creek as I sit on the soft grass next to him.

"I hate it here," he admits frankly, his voice hoarse and tired.

"How long have you been here?"

"Two weeks."

"You haven't even given this place a chance."

"Do I have to? It's sad here. They say that the grass is greener on the other side, but I guess the 'other side' is where I used to live, because it's horrible here."

"I've lived here my entire life. And of course, I can't wait to go to college far, far away from here, but I'd be lying if I said that I wouldn't miss it here sometimes. There's fun to be had here, I promise."

"Yeah, maybe if you have friends. No one here will even talk to me."

"I'm talking to you."

"What if you hadn't found me here? Would you have talked to me otherwise?"

I can't answer. Because he won't believe me if I say  _yes, I sure hope so because the entire reason I came here was to prepare myself for you_.

When Mingyu has no response from me for several moments, he assumes that my answer is no, and thus determines to conclude his speech.

"How did you even find me here?" he asks.

"I―I live here," I stammer.

"Down that road?" he questions, pointing behind us. I nod.

"I do too," Mingyu tells me. I'm shocked. I've never noticed him before.

"What? What house?"

"One-twelve."

"That's just a couple houses down from me, that's wild," I chuckle in disbelief.

"Yeah. I was walking today and I stumbled upon this."

"Oh really? This is where I go when I need to think."

"What did you need to think about?"

I stare into his billowy eyes.  _You._

"Oh, nothing," I lie.

"You can tell me," he reassures.

I've just realized how uncomfortable this entire situation is. This is all happening too fast, and I'm panicking. I examine my watch and affirm I have thirty minutes until I must report to my job.

"I have to go," I announce, rather pressed. I cannot stay here another moment.

I gather my belongings and sprint away, leaving him there alone, the same way I do after school every day.

―

I am distracted at work, to say the least. The events of thirty minutes ago are replaying in my mind like a broken record.

I work in the city library, checking books out, shelving books, finding books for visitors, the like. It's so laid back, in fact, that most of the time here I read or do homework or study, and I get  _paid_  to do it. It's absolutely ideal for me, and I don't know if I would even have a job if I didn't work here.

I don't quite know my coworkers well, therefore I keep to myself most of the time. They consist of a popular girl with wiry hair and a loud voice, a short boy who likely plays video games all day, and a less-than-average looking boy who has a scratchy voice and an unpleasant smell. And then my manager: a tall, slender woman with short, short black hair and a wide grin.   
  
Despite my attempts not to, I frequently glance at the clock and stare at the second hand sluggishly tick around and around. By the time that my elongated shift, at last, comes to a cessation, I dart out of the library and drive a couple blocks to the cafe that Jisoo plays at on every Friday. 

Inside of the cozy edifice is a dining area, a stage, and the counter. Jisoo is playing a soothing, mellow melody and singing along exceptionally. He puts his soul into his intoxicating voice, a voice I would savor falling asleep to. It's thin and fragile like a teacup. Jisoo himself is so pure and ethereal like that of an angel. It's shocking that he's such good friends with Jihoon, a foul-mouthed dramatic boy. I would expect someone like Jisoo to apply himself to a group of diligent, responsible friends. Nevertheless, I'm grateful to have him. 

At the counter, I order hot chocolate and then take one of the only tables left, which is unfortunately near the back. The only downside is that I can't see my friend on the stage, although he projects his voice so well that he laments the entire cafe in his warm singing. 

Several minutes pass and I catch a glimpse of Jihoon, who has just walked in. He finds me and takes the seat next to me and then runs over the plans for tonight. The plan is that we will stay here until Jisoo's set is finished, then we will go to his house and chill at the river for a couple hours until we fall asleep. 

For the time being, I draw out a book from my backpack and read to the sound of Jisoo's enchanting melodies. When he finishes, Jihoon and I help him carry his things to his car and we drive over to the river. 

By now, the sun has set, leaving us to set up our camp in the darkness. Jihoon starts a fire with twigs and matches inside a ring of stones that we had placed years ago. I roll out our towels and our snacks and sit down complacently, listening to the wondrous sounds around me. There's the gentle washing of the river, the singing of the cicadas and frogs, the rustling of the leaves, and the playful breeze. The air is cool and pleasant against my skin. 

When we all settle down, we start doing what we always do at the river: gossip. 

"Are you guys going to play soccer?" Jihoon begins. 

I chuckle. Jisoo simply shakes his head.

"Are you?" we ask Jihoon. 

"I'm thinking about it..." he pauses, "But I most likely won't. Most of the team players are losers. Besides, I'll probably be asked to handle the concession stand like every other year."

"If you want to do it, then you should," Jisoo advised. 

"I can't say I'm thrilled at the idea of spending half my time with guys like Seungcheol or Hansol."

"What do you have against them?" 

"They're popular. They probably have had everything handed to them their entire lives and don't know how to properly treat the people around them. Wonwoo would know, considering his sister is dating one of them."

Jisoo glares at me with this new information. "What have you noticed, Wonwoo?" 

I shrug my shoulders. I don't really see my sister often, in spite of the fact that we live together. She's always off somewhere with friends, and when she's home, she's sleeping. For as long as I can remember, my sister has been popular. She's beautiful and outgoing: the only two traits you need to be well-known.

"She's dating Seungcheol, right?" Jihoon adds. 

"Yeah, I think I've seen him over a couple times," I reply. "I haven't seen enough of him to make a judgment though." 

"Speaking of relationships..." Jisoo shifts, smirking, "Wonwoo, are you and Hyejin okay? I've noticed you two have been kind of distant lately." 

I stared into the hearth. The erratic pops and sparks made the fire look even more like a living being. I tossed a couple twigs into it and watched them glow. 

"Yeah," I sigh. "Things between us aren't the best right now."

"Why not?" 

"To be frank, I don't think I love her anymore. Well―of course I  _love_  her―but..."

"Not the way you used to?" Jisoo completes my sentence. 

I hum a yes. Not the way I used to. 

"What about you, Jisoo?" I merge the subject off of me and my dying relationship. 

"I have a crush," he states matter-of-factly, blushing.  

"Spill." 

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that." 

"Oh, don't be such a bitch, Jisoo," Jihoon whines. 

"Why don't you speak up then?" Jisoo challenges. 

"Hey, I'm just a single guy, swimming along in the sea of women," Jihoon raises his hands in defense. 

"Do you guys know the new kid, Mingyu?" I ask between their defenses. They glare at me and the only sound becomes the crackling of the fire. I admire the way the orange light dances on their cheeks. This is a topic that's been relentlessly on my mind for hours. 

"Yeah, he's in my history class," Jihoon states, "Why?" 

"He seems alright, right?"

They both raise an inquisitive eyebrow. 

"Yeah, I guess...Why?" 

"Well, I want to become friends with him, but I'm too shy. And the craziest thing happened today. I found him crying by my house, and it turns out he's my neighbor." 

"Huh. Jeon Wonwoo wants to make friends with someone. That's the revelation of the year," Jihoon exaggerates. 

"Oh, shut up, you're missing my point," I complain. 

"No, I'm serious. This kid must be special if  _you_  want to make friends with  _him_. I fully encourage you to go get him." 

"You're saying it like it's a crush." 

"Well, is it?" 

I am caught off guard. The word  _no_  is prancing on my tongue, however, I've never weighed this question in my mind. He's attractive and all, but...

"He's being silent. That means yes," Jihoon declares loudly. Jisoo rolls his eyes. 

Before any of us can say anymore, we hear the drunken laughter of some adults down the way. Normally that's the sign for us to leave. We've heard stories of the people who live on the country-side, none of them being wholesome. 

We pick up our belongings and splash out the fire with frigid river water, then start walking home. I can barely see in front of me, but when I look up, all I see is thousands of glowing, shimmering stars in the sky. I trip on a rock and get cramps in my neck as a result of craning it to see the wondrous beauty of the constellations hanging above me. It's not an everyday thing to be able to see them this clearly, therefore I savor every moment, every dazzling speck. 

When we arrive at Jisoo's house, we tip-toe upstairs and grab ourselves each a pillow and blanket and crash somewhere in the room. I fall asleep to the thought of flying up to the stars and swimming in space with them, watching all the planets turn beneath me. 


	4. weak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wonwoo feels weak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is more of a transition chapter than anything with any super important revelations.

I go back Sunday evening. I'm half hoping to see him sitting there miserably by the creek. However, I can resolve before even approaching the water that it's wholly vacant. I venture up the hill and gaze over the large field before me, my eyes soaking in the lush green landscape. On the other side of the tree line is a baseball park, and I can hear the team arduously practicing. 

I find myself retiring by the creek and running my fingers through the frigid water. Mingyu is stuck on my mind like glue. The image of his puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks persists in flashing across my memories. I want to help him. What I  _really_  want is to drive him home. I run it through my mind several times: I drive up to near where he sits, coolly roll down the window, and ask if he wants a ride home. He glares at me inquisitively, and then soundlessly grabs his backpack and hesitantly gets into my car. Then we make small talk while we drive home. Then I do it again the next day. 

_Or he'll just say no from the start._   _That could also happen._

However, if things go my way, I could become his friend, and feel accomplished with myself. I could show him all the things that are around, and get him to settle in more readily. I could feel like I helped someone. 

_Or he'll say no!_

On the other hand of this exciting possible new friendship, I have a girlfriend. That is simply a statement. No, I do not like Mingyu. I determined that as well. Jihoon really got me thinking with that frivolous question, and after some short-lived thinking, I concluded that I do not find him attractive in that manner. And I'm not lying to myself either. I was honest. And I do not have a crush on him. 

Anyway, my girlfriend. This special person who I must devote all of my attention to. This person whom I have neglected noticeably. She tells me that she's dissatisfied with our relationship. She wants me to drive her home after school some days, even though it's quite the drive to her house. She wants more recognition in front of others that I am hers. She wants more time spent with me on dates and quiet afternoons inside. And I surrender to those requests. Because...I love her. And I feel like, after the way I've treated her, she deserves it. 

She noticed I stopped saying it back. 

"Do you love me?" she asked breathlessly, with dull, sad eyes. 

I gazed at her at that moment. "Of course I love you." 

She shook her head, her brown eyes glossed over with tears. 

I took her into my arms and spoke sweet lies into her hair. Why? Why do I stay with her? Why do I continue to break her heart every day? Why am I such a heartless monster? 

I feel weak. As I sit at the creek, my numb fingers still dipped in the icy water. My arms feel weak and fatigued. But I feel weak on the inside too. I'm so weak. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cant wait to write the next chapter its GONNA BE GOOOOOOOOD


	5. strawberry bubblegum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wonwoo takes a leap of faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took me so long to update, saying that school is overbearing right now would be an understatement. i hope youre all doing well

The photography project is due today. I chose to take a photo of a bee sitting elated on one of the last thriving Pansies in my garden. Maybe it symbolizes me clinging onto the remnants of my relationship with my girlfriend. I don’t quite know. I put it all together last minute, and quite frankly I’m slightly dissatisfied with it.

In class, I accidentally steal a glimpse of Mingyu's picture, which is from a concert. I can make out a tall man on stage, passionately singing into a microphone while his hand is curled around the neck of a shiny brown guitar. The background is made of shining lights—probably flashlights—that create an image like stars glimmering in the night sky.

The photo was taken quite close up, and I cringe at the thought of standing so close to the stage at a concert. Everyone's rudely pushing you around and the music is so piercing in your ears. Though Mingyu seems like he could handle it. He probably fights to be that close to the stage.

My eyes travel up from his photograph to his face. He has headphones in his ears and a bulky black jacket on. He's staring straight ahead, his face strewn with sleepiness. I avert my gaze elsewhere before he notices.

The principal then chimes in on the intercom, " _Good afternoon, students. This is a reminder that a meeting for all students wishing to join the soccer team this season will be held in the gym directly after school_.  _Thank you."_

Then, my phone buzzes in my back pocket. It's Jihoon texting the group chat with Jisoo and I, asking if either of us can give him a ride home from that meeting. Jisoo immediately declines.

I sigh. Unfortunately, I feel some sort of responsibility over Jihoon, and I don't want to indirectly hinder him from having the ability to play soccer for the school. Though there is one worry about this task, which is that it impedes on my plan to take Mingyu home. I return my phone to my pocket and consider my options. If I take both of them home, Jihoon will never let me live down the fact that I'm actually starting to interact with Mingyu, and no matter how much I argue, Jihoon will stay convinced that I have a crush on him. Meanwhile, Mingyu may be uncomfortable with not only having me drive him home, but also having Jihoon in the car. 

What am I thinking? By the time the soccer meeting is over, Mingyu will probably be gone anyway. I'll just forget about it.

The bell to end school dings and I shuffle downstairs to the gym and sit in the back, hoping to avoid looking like I actually want to be here. While the students file in, I check every head for Jihoon, desperately not wanting to be sitting alone. I would look so pathetic sitting alone, wouldn’t I?

Not much longer and I see his short body march into the gym and I stare at him, hoping he'll see me. Our eyes meet and relief washes over me. He sits next to me on the hard bleachers. 

During the meeting I'm zoned out, staring at the walls and letting my mind wander. Somehow, I didn't see while I was counting heads for Jihoon, but I now notice one head in particular sitting close to the front. It's him. Sitting diligently by the coach, intently tuned in to the information he's giving on the soccer team. I try to picture him out on the field, the crowds cheering for him as he skillfully takes the ball from one end of the field to the other and homes it in in the opposing team's goal. He’s probably so athletically inclined.

The meeting ends with a brief reminder about tryouts next Friday directly after school. And then Jihoon and I are off to the student parking lot, Jihoon beginning his speech on his upcoming tribulations and turmoil with this forsaken soccer team. 

"They're gonna' say I'm too short," he sighs. 

"I doubt that. If they say no, it's because of your lack of experience," I say. 

Jihoon climbs into my car. "I should have a fair opportunity like everyone else." 

I turn the keys in the ignition. "That's true. But unfortunately, that's not the way things work at this school. Here, it's all about winning. It's all about the reputation." 

"You know, those star players are going to graduate. Then what?" 

"Then they are replaced by more star players. I don't know how we do it, but we have the best team around. Undefeated for what, ten seasons now?" 

Jihoon opens his mouth to speak, but doesn't. By now we are turning the corner to the front end of the school, where Mingyu sits on his lonely bench. His attendance never fails. I pull up beside him and Jihoon raises an inquisitive eyebrow. I roll down the window on his side. 

I gulp. "Hey, you need a ride?" Could my voice sound any scratchier?

Mingyu's eyes meet mine. He has a pout on his face as he sits coolly on the bench with his arms stretched out behind him. He shakes his head.

"Are you sure?" I ask.  _Please, Mingyu._ "It's cold outside." 

"It's like 70-something," Jihoon mutters. 

Mingyu cracks a smile and strolls over to my window. 

"My mom usually gets me," he explains shyly, avoiding eye contact. His breath smells like strawberries. 

"Oh, when does she usually get here?" I ask.

“Around four-thirty. That’s the earliest she can get me.”

I check my watch. It’s three-fifteen.

“It’s only three-fifteen…You could text her now and say that she doesn’t have to get you.” I explain, internally hoping I’m not coming off as desperate. Jihoon is probably mildly agitated by now.

Mingyu is silent for a couple moments, but then mutters, “Fine,” and climbs into the backseat.

“Do you guys want some gum?” he offers, pulling out a small and shiny red pack. Jihoon declines while I gladly let him hand me a piece. It tastes just like strawberries. Just like Mingyu’s breath.

While we drive, I ask, “Hey, Mingyu, so you like soccer?”

He meets my gaze through the rear-view and responds, “My mom always forces me to play a sport. Soccer just happens to be the easiest for me.”

I don’t know what to say next, so I let it die. I’m so bad at conversation, I hope Mingyu doesn’t notice.

I drop off Jihoon and I offer Mingyu to move to the front seat and he declines immediately. I don’t push, however. Not this time.

When we get to our neighborhood, I stop at his house and he wordlessly gets out of the car. I’m slightly offended by his lack of thanks, however I understand his shyness. I just want him to know I care.

The next day after school, I pull up to his bench again, this time, alone.

“Hey,” I shout. He looks over, as if he didn’t already notice me. “Need a ride?”

“You know I don’t _need_ one,” he smiles.

“Come on,” I laugh, gesturing for him to get in. He coyly complies.

Once he gets settled in the front seat, I notice his black backpack is adorned with many pins, all a different size and color, though I can’t get a good look at them. Then, he pulls out the shiny red pack again.

“Gum?” he offers. I take a piece and then we are off. The flavor is so unique. It’s the best strawberry gum I’ve ever tasted.

On the way home, he tells me about his day. I listen so intently, hanging onto every word. When he gets home, he gives me thanks. It becomes an everyday thing. I can tell his walls are coming down with me. And mine are with him, too. Now, we talk to each other in the classes we have together.

The next Friday, tryouts are being held after school for soccer. Sometime during the day, Jihoon texts me, “So are you gonna be my ride after tryouts or will you be too busy with your boyfriend?”

Over text it’s impossible to detect any sort of sarcasm, so in my mind his tone is bitter and icy. It makes me feel suddenly extremely self-conscious and insecure. Am I spending too much time with Mingyu? Does everyone else think he’s my boyfriend? I don’t even like him! He’s just my friend. We’re just friends.

Inside I feel utterly defeated however I manage to reply, “Sure. I’ll take you home.”

The tryouts are held outside in the field. I sit in the stands and watch and listen to music. Jihoon is by far the shortest kid here. Nevertheless, he may be trying the hardest to impress the coach. He’s watched many games, being the concession stand boy and all, so I think he should know the basics at least.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is obviously experienced. He hits the ball perfectly every time and sprints across the field with ease. There’s no doubt in my mind of him getting the spot on the team. He’s at the same level of skill as the most celebrated boys on the team.

I’m not quite sure of what to think of it. I assume now that he’ll become one of those celebrated boys and thus become popular and adored. And he won’t want a friend like me. An outcast. Jihoon will get humiliated by the coach and Mingyu will laugh in his face and then we can never be friends.

But I guess if that’s the type of person he is, then why would I ever waste my time, right? My friends are kind. If Mingyu isn’t, then I’m better off without him.

Soon enough, tryouts have come to a cessation. Jihoon jogs towards me, holding a cold bottle of water to his neck and rustling his sweaty bangs.

“You did great out there,” I tell him, standing up from the uncomfortable bleachers.

“Yeah, I hope I make it. I’m so worn out…” he sighs, heaving breaths.

Mingyu and I make eye contact from across the field and I swiftly look down. I can’t take him home today, not with Jihoon judging me for it. Why even is he judging me? Why does he have to be like this sometimes?

“What’s wrong?” Jihoon asks inquisitively. Not because he cares or anything.

“Nothing. Let’s just go.”

“Oh, come on, Wonwoo. Don’t pull this card on me and cut the bullshit. What is it?”

“It’s nothing, Jihoon. Let’s leave.” My cheeks are burning. I thought that having a new friend wouldn’t bring more trauma to me. I stomp the whole way to the parking lot. Jihoon doesn’t follow me.

I sit in the car and wait for him while mulling over the Mingyu situation. I can’t just stop driving him home—his mother probably just assumes that I just give him rides every day now—what kind of friend would that make me? Though I can’t keep doing this if it only earns me criticism.

I catch a glimpse of Jihoon rounding the corner to the parking lot, the towering Mingyu walking next to him. Relief floods my aching chest, and some distain for Jihoon dissolves away. He isn’t a _complete_ disappointment to me now.

The duo enters my car and I greet them in a quieted voice. Mingyu offers us gum.

“Where do you even get this?” I ask, “I’ve never seen it before.”

“My dad works for a bubblegum company back where I used to live, so he sends me my favorite flavors every month,” Mingyu explains. “It’s not the _ideal_ thing I would want from him, but it’s something.”

Conversation afterwards is minimal, even after Jihoon leaves. Even when I drop him off. He’s probably tired from the tryouts.

That night, I take a trip to the river with Jisoo and Jihoon. It’s so pleasant to unwind with them. Shockingly, Jihoon doesn’t mention Mingyu at all. He’s far too concerned about getting on the soccer team. Jisoo teases him endlessly.

I drift to sleep feeling like I’m staring at a huge puzzle with only the outline finished.

**Author's Note:**

> idfhdkjfhfeik yay a new story


End file.
